We step into the ring before a sea of faces, the atmosphere thick with pride and envy. Rows of benches are filled with those who’ve already fallen. Elder Yona and Headmaster Lyra sit on lone chairs elevated above everyone else, like judges of fate.
The noise around us vanishes the moment the barrier rises, but unlike before, it doesn’t fade to white this time. It remains clear, shimmering like glass dipped in sunlight, distorting the space around us. Emily stretches her arms, rolling her shoulders with casual confidence.
“I’ve always loved a crowd,” she sneers, cracking her knuckles. “It’s going to make this fight all the sweeter when I beat you.”
I don’t respond. My heart is hammering too loud to waste breath on words. Rolling my shoulders to loosen the tension, I force a deep inhale.
